


Accidents Happen

by eloc1N



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adorable Kwamis, Based on a Tumblr Post, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Frustration, Gen, Hope, Implied Relationships, It's needed for like magic stuff idk its from a needle, Jewelry, Kwami & Miraculous Lore, Kwami Shenanigans, Light Angst, Lore - Freeform, Love, Love Confessions, Magic, Mild Blood, Mischief, One Shot Collection, Original Kwamis, Plagg is a Little Shit (Miraculous Ladybug), Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Prompt Fic, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Silly, Tired Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug), Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloc1N/pseuds/eloc1N
Summary: A series of one shots that show Marinette accidentally making Miraculouses. This won't be in chronological order, and its all really just for fun! Based on aTumblr postI made!Currently closed because I'm out of prompts! I'll reopen later if I ever receive more.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 26
Kudos: 165





	1. Hamster

**Author's Note:**

> I made a post on Tumblr and it got a fair amount of attention, so I've decided to post one shots under this fic "Accidents Happen" every now and then. Enjoy the first one!

Jagged Stone’s music thrums through Marinette’s veins, driving her as she bobs her head to the beat. The girl is hunched over the work desk in her room—carefully and precisely designing her next line of jewelry. This time she’s focusing entirely on rings. Wire wrapping, getting sheets of metal and tapping it into place with a variety of hammers, whittling a wooden frame; she’s trying it all.

Today the wires prove to be unyielding—she had accidentally purchased a brand of metal wire that wasn’t as soft as others. Outside of the suit she lacked the strength to easily bend it, but she wasn’t about to wake Tikki from her nap to _craft_. Not again, anyway. Besides, at this point she had nicked herself on the sharp ends and literally bled into this piece. Now she can actually claim her blood, sweat and tears had gone into her work, _ha_.

Her musings only rewarded her by nicking her fingertip again. A single drop of blood beaded up onto her skin, smearing onto the jagged lavender stone. Gina, her grandmother on her father’s side, had dropped by between trips with small, naturally formed amethysts for Marinette to toy with. The stones immediately inspired her to, obviously, make rings—but rings that highlighted the natural cluster formation rather than spending time smoothing and polishing. Wire wrapping had seemed like a great idea at the time—as if they were vines creeping around to reclaim the stone. Perfect.

_Perfectly painful_ , she thought as she nicked herself again. Marinette sucked on her index finger, setting the nearly finished ring back down. All she had to do now was carefully paint the wires to seem more vine-like and she’d be done. A smug smile crossed her face—she had beaten this task.

As if to tell her _no, she hadn’t won_ , the ring began to **glow**. It rattled just barely on the table. In fact, to the untrained eye it would have seemed completely still—but she knew better. Because this wasn’t the first time.

“Come on, no—the ring isn’t even done yet!” She complained, yanking on her pigtails and spinning away in her chair. This wouldn’t stop anything, of course.

Faced away she could only see the flash of light against her surroundings, but she knew what it all looked like. The ring would float up, shake a bit in the air, then a ball of light would exit it. She wheeled back around to face the music—in this case, a Kwami. The small orb grew and stretched, contorting oddly in spots until it slowly began to look like the average, bobble-headed Kwami.

As it uncurled in the middle of the air, Marinette could make out bits and pieces of its features. Pale beige fur with the occasional tan spot—one large one over its left eye—two big, round ears, and a short little nub of a tail. The antennae on its head drifted to settle and curl at its cheeks, roughly mimicking whiskers. For a moment she had difficulty placing what exact animal it was, but then— ** _poof_**. Its fur fluffed up like a mini explosion, fully covering the body. This was a hamster.

The small, cute hamster opened its brown eyes, staring up at her. She would _not_ be persuaded by its cuteness—new Kwamis were untamed and wild, she had come to find. “Do you have a name?” She started, giving a thin smile. This was the thing she always asked, but—

“No, Master!” It squeaked, antennae twitching. Of course, they never did have a name.

Thoroughly done with the situation already, she rubbed at her temples. “Okay, then—” she sighed out through her nose “—let’s just…let’s just call you Hammy.”

“Marinette.” Tikki complained in her ear, startling her. “You’re not even _trying_.”

The young Parisian was exasperated now. She flung up her hands. “Exactly, Tikki! I’m _not even trying!_ So **why** does this keep happening?” Pointing at the unblinking hamster, she glared. It just smiled, happy to be there and not understanding the social cues she was throwing its way.

Tikki gave her a little pout, bringing up a stubby arm to tap at her chin in thought. “Perhaps you just have more innate ability to do so. More raw magical power.” As she spoke, the hamster Kwami began to move about. It pushed around balls of yarn, tugged on loose fibers of thread line still connected to her sewing machine—even uncapped a highlighter and somehow finagled it all into its cheeks. Must have realized too late the highlighter had a foul flavor as it quickly retched it up, tears in its eyes. Marinette just sighed and let Tikki take things over.

As her Kwami tried to gently explain that not all things were necessarily food, she focused back on the ring. “Didn’t even let me finish it—Nino was going to give this to Alya.” She muttered.

The hamster’s ears flickered, and big round eyes swiveled over to her. “Oh, but I think it’s just a lovely toe ring!” It cried out, clutching tiny paws to its fluffy chest.

Marinette twitched. “Excuse me?”

“The toe ring—I thought it was perfect the way it was, so I claimed it. Thank you!” It chirped, not aware of the storm that was brewing.

The girl stood from the chair, looming over the new Kwami. “It’s **not** a _toe ring_.”

Hammy, who was finally revealing that mischievous, smug side of all fresh-faced Kwamis, narrowed his eyes. The pleasant smile on his face stretched to an uncomfortable point. “I think it is. After all—” He floated up into her face.

“ **I’m** the Kwami of _fashion_.”

Marinette screamed.


	2. Pink Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette gets to see firsthand that the Miracle Box is not limitless. She has to craft a new box, while also handling a fresh, rambunctious Kwami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this! It's longer than the first one. :P

With a petite, bright magenta flamingo peering over her shoulder, Marinette realized her worst fears had come to pass. She officially had no more space in the Miracle Box. With the few Kwami that appeared **before** Titter the flamingo, she had been able to find mysterious slots in the jewelry box that she could’ve sworn weren’t there before. Unfortunately, it appears that even a magical, spell-bound container had its limits. This time when a blinding pink flash of light came from a bejeweled hair tie and went through her room, the box didn’t open up further. This meant she had a loose, unprotected, _untamed_ Kwami just…sitting in her room.

Faux feathers—really just clusters of the traditional antennae seen on all Kwami—brushed against her cheek. Titter was a very affectionate being, uncommon in brand new Kwamis. Usually fresh faces would be wary but still excited to finally speak to a human. The flamingo did share the common trait of not understanding the social cues Marinette was letting off—uncomfortably leaning away from the bird attempting to rearrange her hair into an actual nest. She wasn’t aware flamingoes would have true nesting tendencies, but zoos probably weren’t the best reflection of animal life and natural instincts.

Titter swatted at her head to keep her from moving, and she gave up with a huff. Clusters of strands of hair were yanked out of place, mussed around, and even _chewed on_ until they bent the exact way she wanted. Marinette rubbed at her forehead, fingers drifting down to pinch the bridge of her nose. She sighed. _The girl would have to make her own Miracle Box_.

Marinette pulled her phone out of her pocket—she very well couldn’t take the Kwami with her to get wood and nails. Leaving it here alone was just as big a risk; it could destroy her room, wander downstairs and greet her parents, or even go wreak havoc on Paris. She would need help.

_________________________________________

As she tucked her wallet and a few cookies into her purse, the hatch above her bed rattled. She glanced upwards—only to be met with Chat Noir with his face pressed up against the glass. His nose scrunched up awkwardly; nearly flat. She could hear him make faint snorts from the other side. While Marinette rolled her eyes and turned away, Adrien opened the door and plopped down on her bed.

The springs creaked loudly, making her give him a sharp glare. Her parents weren’t exactly in the know-how about a boy in her room, much less the Kwamis housed up here. He had the audacity to shoot her a sharp, wild grin. A flash of green light and the handsome, teenage heartthrob underneath was revealed. Situating himself to recline in a suggestive pose, he wiggled his eyebrows almost aggressively. Marinette was used to these antics—simply picking up a ball of yarn and throwing it in his general direction. It hit him with an _oof_ , and he decided to roll off the bed and slide down the steps leading up to it.

If he was still in the suit, his tail would be wagging. Any time with Marinette was a **good** time. He so rarely got to see her outside of school and, well, their _extra-curricular activities_. That was how they had conveniently wrapped it up for their families, anyway. _We’re in a study group together! We’ve picked up the same exercise routine! Marinette is teaching me how to knit! Adrien is showing me some fencing techniques!_ While Marinette’s parents had been quick to trade knowing glances and assume they were dating—which wasn’t **untrue** —Gabriel and Nathalie had to be genuinely convinced. Adrien had to actually learn how to knit. Marinette had to actually pick up some fencing techniques. Hopefully today he could squeeze in that pesky French seam—you’d think that living in France would give him some sort of immunity to the stitch he currently had the most difficulty with. You’d be wrong.

In all his musing, he completely missed Marinette finishing getting ready. He only snapped back to attention as she reached for her coat to combat the chilly winter air outside. Quickly shucking off his own, he rushed over and eagerly gave it to her. She gave him a small, soft smile.

“So,” he started “where is the star of the hour?”

Marinette lifted a finger to her lips, then pointed to her desk. It seems at some point Titter had been convinced to use fabric scraps to nest instead, and was now currently napping in them near her computer. Tikki poked her head out of Marinette’s purse, eyeing the sleeping Kwami warily. At that, Plagg decided to make his official appearance.

“What’s wrong sugar cube?” He teased, flying in lazy circles around her head. His voice grew louder with each word, obviously being annoying on purpose. “Can’t handle a new friend? Mmm, your years as an active Kwami have changed you.”

She glared at him from her refuge. “I am as old as time, _Plagg_ —just like you.” Her antennae twitched and whipped around, clearly irritated. “I haven’t forgotten just how bad you were when you first inhabited your ring. I don’t see _any_ of this going well.”

Plagg gave his signature cattish grin. He placed his paws on the edge of the purse and leaned into her face. Tikki cringed back—the smell of aged cheese was just too much. “Ugh—brush your teeth Plagg!”

“We don’t have teeth!” He snickered.

Adrien blanked. “Wait they don’t have teeth?”

“They have teeth, they just aren’t like ours.” Marinette groaned out. She tapped her purse to let Tikki retreat inside, then clicked it shut. “None of that matters. Can you please babysit Titter for me while I get stuff to make a new jewelry box?”

He gave a wide smile and leaned in to give her a kiss. What little stress that had been on her face disappeared, leaving her looking lovesick instead. “Of course I can, Purrincess.”

Marinette beamed at him, then turned and opened the hatch. She looked back right before it closed to give him a small wave. “Stay safe.” He murmured, watching it close shut.

Plagg drifted over to him, glancing between the blonde and the new Kwami. “You think you can handle this, loverboy?”

“Of course!” Adrien scoffed. “How hard could this even be?”

_________________________________________

Very hard, it turns out. Titter had woken up a measly five minutes after Marinette departed, and promptly freaked out upon seeing some random boy in the room. Plagg had approached her and seeing another Kwami seemed to calm her down some. Her agitation generally faded over the next half hour. Adrien was attentive during that time, but she and Plagg seemed to play together well, and they weren’t being destructive, so he took just a tiny, **tiny** break.

He was on his phone for not even a full minute—about to send a truly poetic text to his lovebug—when something shattered. Adrien whipped his head up, locking eyes with two guilty (but not guilt-ridden) Kwami. Titter looked ecstatic above the broken glass now on the ground, and Plagg just looked plain smug. He gave a nearly evil grin to Adrien and then _darted_. Titter followed him, eager for more destruction.

Adrien leaped off of the recline couch, giving chase. Every item they knocked down he had to dive to grab. The disaster pair nearly broke a handful of other things before they stopped in the middle of the room. Flustered, Adrien gave a relieved sigh and began walking over to them. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be making this easy.

Plagg and Titter locked eyes, then _flew into the floor_. Oh crap, they were downstairs—were Marinette’s parents down there? The model panicked and sprinted to the hatch, flinging it open as quietly as he could, and creeping downstairs. The soft, muted tones of the TV drifted around the quaint living room. Perhaps the luckiest moment in his life; Tom and Sabine were nowhere to be found. Probably still in the bakery. Adrien could faint from the relief.

No time for that, though. The two rambunctious Kwamis zoomed past him, aiming for the door. He jumped in front of them, shocking the duo and causing them to split up. Plagg made his way to the kitchen while Titter eyed the precious family photos. _Oh no_.

Adrien experienced his first good idea of the day. “Plagg, Claws Out!” A disgruntled Plagg was forced to drop the cheese he had pilfered from the fridge. His glare never left Adrien right up until the moment he was sucked into the ring.

As the transformation zipped over his body, the blonde relaxed. One Kwami down—just Titter left. Turning to look at her showed the little pink ball of mimicked feathers afraid. “W-W-What…” she trailed off, shaking. “What did you do to Plagg?” Crying now, the bird fled through the doorway. Crap, Adrien figured Kwamis just kind of knew about what happened when they were tied to a piece of jewelry.

Chat Noir ran after her, skidding down the railing of the stairs. The Kwami had likely gone all the way down to the bakery—meaning after this, she would be free to traverse the entirety of Paris. He needed to stop her here and now.

He burst into the bakery and promptly froze. Tom and Sabine were staring right at him, as well as five or six customers. The room was silent for a few seconds before the customers _lost it_. They scrambled to whip out their phones, to ask for photos and autographs, someone even asking if he knew where Ladybug was. He gave a thin smile and tried to awkwardly handle them while also looking for Titter. For now, he would have to ignore Tom ominously looming behind him. The bear of a man was stormy, and probably very curious as to why Chat Noir just burst out of his home.

It turns out he wouldn’t have to explain, as Marinette walked through the door. Her own stony gaze—easily surpassing her father’s—caused his blood to chill. The glacier level he achieved plummeted even further when he realized that in one hand she held bags full of supplies, and in the other she had a _very_ pink Kwami. He was so dead.

_________________________________________

Chat Noir braced his hands on his knees, bent over in a very deep bow to Sabine and Tom. While the two didn’t know he was Marinette’s boyfriend, he still shook at the glare from her father and the raw disappointment from her mother. Thank all the Kwamis in the world that he had thought to summon his transformation and thus conveniently hide the fact that _perfect_ Adrien was running around upstairs. _Then again_ , he thought as he glanced at Marinette and thus also Titter, _Kwamis are the entire reason I’m in this position_.

Marinette caught his attention and subtly gestured upstairs— _meet me up there after this_. His lips curled up ever-so-slightly at the edges. Tom brought him back from his love-dazed world and into harsh, cold reality.

“Young man.” He slowly spoke, voice dark. “What exactly were you doing in our home? There hasn’t been an Akuma attack today.”

Adrien cringed beneath the mask—Tom had brought up the first thing he was going to say. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dupain, sir.” He gradually stood straight, posture stiff as a board. “Uh—it’s very official superhero business, I’m afraid.”

“Really?” Sabine raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Adrien squeaked, pink flush going past the edges of his mask and crawling down towards his throat. Behind her parents, Marinette snickered, then headed up the stairs. He glowered at her back. _Wicked, beautiful enchantress_.

Tom relaxed at Chat Noir’s obvious discomfort and embarrassment. “Now, son, we know you’re a good boy.” Adrien could feel the blush crawling even further across his body—this is _beyond_ mortifying. “But next time, please just use the front door if you need to be in our house.”

Sabine nodded along, then turned to the assorted goods behind them. She plucked a croissant from the shelves, then placed it in a brown paper bag and turned right back around. “Here, take this to go. You’re all skin and bones! Paris needs healthy heroes.”

Adrien blinked dumbly and hesitantly reached out for the bag. _No punishment? Sweet_. He gave a small smile and even smaller wave, then made a show of using the door to leave this time. In reality he would be sneaking back up as soon as possible. _Sorry Mr. and Mrs. Marinette’s parents_.

_________________________________________

“I’m home Lovebug!” Adrien crooned as he crawled through the balcony hatch. Marinette hummed but didn’t spare a glance, too focused on the wood she was sanding down. In the time he had waited for Tom and Sabine to calm down and not feel the need to check upstairs too often, Marinette had managed to hammer together a general box.

It was still very plain, and didn’t look much like the actual Miracle Box in their possession, but to Adrien a box was a box. She had made quick work of hammering together the individual pieces and sealing any gaps with a mixture of wood glue and the dust she had accumulated with sanding. The length of the box was about the size of her forearm; the width just a few inches shorter. A stack of simple, cheap, thin boxes for individual jewelry pieces sat next to her—she must have purchased those while out. After all, she didn’t have time to make anything pretty. Titter likely wouldn’t be the last Kwami she would make, and they needed to be housed and trained individually.

Speaking of Titter, the small bird was sitting morosely on the floor. Tikki hovered over her, a stern expression on her face. Adrien cringed—the ladybug could give a scolding like no one else. She would likely also have some choice words for Plagg. The thought brought a smug smirk to his face, and he promptly dropped his disguise.

Plagg flew out of the ring and began to glare at Adrien. The cat clearly didn’t understand his circumstances, because he was working his way up to a temper tantrum over the cheese he didn’t eat rather than fleeing for his life from the red Kwami that now loomed behind him. Adrien snickered as Tikki yanked at the cat’s tail and dragged him over to Titter to be scolded as well. Plagg’s ears folded back as she tore into him with her words, watching him pout and flop back on the ground.

Marinette gave a little _aha_ as she smoothed out the rough edges of the rectangular wood box. She tested the hinges of the lid, finding them working smooth and soundless. Adrien joined her at her desk, giving her a peck on the cheek and watching her skin color in response.

“We all good then? The box doesn’t quite look…magical.” He pointed out, reaching out to touch the wood himself.

“I don’t really know what to do to make it magical.” She hummed and tapped her chin in thought. “Maybe blood?”

Adrien eyed her warily. “Blood?”

“Yeah—I’ve noticed that every time I accidentally make a Miraculous its because I’ve bled on something I’m making.” Marinette gave an embarrassed smile and scratched her neck. “I can be pretty clumsy, and I keep losing the protective stuff for my fingers.”

“I guess you always have been clumsy, but…wouldn’t you have been making Kwamis before, too?”

She bit her lip, already pulling out a needle from her sewing drawer. “No—I think it has something to do with being a guardian.” Before the pin could pierce her finger, she hesitated. “I—I think becoming a guardian does something to your body.”

The young girl looked up at him. “Master Fu lived—and is _still living_ —for well over the average human lifespan. He never told me his exact age, but I know its way over 100.” She pricked her finger. “I’m worried that I’m going to live that long too.”

As she smeared the blood onto the box without fanfare, she continued. “I’m worried I’m going to outlive all of you and be alone.”

Adrien stared at her, shocked. “Marinette…that’s not going to happen.” He cupped her cheek in one hand to turn her to look at him. “We’re in this together. I’m not going to leave you alone. This is **our** fight.”

As if trying to prove that, Adrien reached for the needle. Marinette watched him, thoroughly confused, until he pricked his own finger and placed it on the surface of the box. Right over where her own stain marked it.

The box began to shimmer. The hinges rattled; the nails glowed bright. Before they could even cover their eyes, the box caught on fire—the flames flashing between red, black, and green. Adrien yanked Marinette back from the flames, but they died out almost as quickly as they came. Before them sat a sleek, black box. It almost appeared metallic—which wouldn’t make sense, because he watched her make it from wood—but touching it yielded a cool, smooth surface. It _was_ metal.

In the center of the box was a familiar neon green symbol. The paw of the cat Miraculous— _Adrien’s_ Miraculous. He set his fingers over it, simply feeling the raised, textured surface. Marinette reached for the latch, attempting to open it. It wouldn’t even budge. When Adrien went to open it, however, the box listened. Inside it were a series of handles that defied the laws of reality. They sat imbedded into the walls, but when he pulled one out an entire drawer followed it. It was small, really only enough space in each slot for a single Miraculous, but it was amazing nonetheless.

Adrien quickly fetched one of the small spare boxes for the jewelry. Tikki and Plagg had ceased their antics during all of this, instead watching the two humans. The normally lackadaisical Plagg was instead rapt and serious for a change. Tikki had a little stubby limb over her mouth, surprised. Titter simply looked confused, but that was a given as she was brand new and was bound to not be familiar with anything. Adrien just scooped up her and her hair tie and placed the bejeweled tie in the box. Titter disappeared in a flash of light, melding into the glittering, gem-like feathers as he shut it. He approached Marinette and placed the encased Miraculous into a drawer of the new Miracle Box.

Marinette broke the silence. “What just happened?” She whispered.

“Kwamis aren’t involved in any of the rituals and processes guardians and monks hold.” Surprisingly, Plagg was the one who spoke out rather than Tikki, who just nodded along. The black cat continued. “But—something about Adrien is different now. He’s like you.” He pointed at Marinette.

Tikki and Plagg drew closer to the duo. “I think…” Tikki trailed off. “I think Adrien is a guardian now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking I'll update this every Saturday! Until I run out of prompts of course. Don't want to see this end? Send prompts my way through my social media links (I use Twitter the most).
> 
> Edit: just a fun little thing--in my world I like to think that Alya and Nino are the ones who teach Adrien how to REALLY text people, lol


	3. Pangolin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A calm moment is disrupted by an especially brazen Kwami, who ends up revealing particularly awkward information. Everything works out, though, as it always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more soft and fluffy feeling chapter (except for certain bits lol). Thank you Tumblr user @sea-of-ships for the Kwami name "Barro"! I thought it sounded a bit like "burrow", and that ended up inspiring the animal I used (a pangolin, never stated in the piece because they don't know what that is).

Marinette leaned back into Adrien’s chest, relaxing in the pure warmth he emitted. His arms snaked under her working hands to circle around her and pull her even closer. It was quiet in her room—even more so in her elevated bed where they were resting. Tikki and Plagg took advantage of the peace to snooze on a pillow near them. Crumbs of sweets and old cheese littered the area—slightly displaced each time a snore worked its way out of Tikki’s chest.

In her hands were faux leather that had gradually been cut and sewn into a single fingerless glove. Scraps and loose tendrils of thread pooled in her lap next to a pair of fabric scissors. Juleka’s birthday was coming up soon, and Marinette was excited to surprise her with a new glove. Coal black polyester with a soft inner lining, miniscule ashen scales dusted the knuckles and tapered down the glove. A crescent moon had been cut longways over the top of the hand just underneath the knuckles, shimmering evergreen fabric sewn on the inside. It was translucent, allowing just a hint of the skin underneath to be seen.

Only a few stitches more around the hole for the pinkie and Marinette would be done. The waxed linen thread she used was thicker than what she was used to, and couldn’t be used in her sewing machine as the wax outer layer would clog it. Besides, it was always good for her to practice sewing with her hands. The machine was fast, but Marinette could bring a different kind of precision and authenticity to her work with her hands. The real problem wasn’t the thick, waxy thread or stitching by hand, it was the heavy duty needles she had to use. Her smaller, thinner ones weren’t cut out for this—leaving her with needles that seemed especially capable of poking right through her fingers, bone and all. She knew that was ridiculous, as by now it’s already poked her a few times, leaving her to wipe off a few dots of beaded blood from the glove. _Still_ , it was anxiety-inducing.

Adrien drew her out of her thoughts—so attuned to her emotions and body language. The girl hadn’t even realized how stiff she had become during the process. He brushed his lips over her head, blowing away strands that clung to him in passing. Soft hands befitting of a model drifted from her torso to loosely grip her hand holding the needle. His other hand scratched at the free strands of hair at the base of her neck, making her lean into the sensation. Blunt nails dug in pleasurably and she yielded to what he really wanted—for her to relax.

An amused huff hit the side of her face, making her turn to see those gleaming emerald eyes. Not wanting him to be too amused, Marinette quickly interrupted him and leaned in for a kiss. Warmth unlike the physical kind Marinette and Adrien had created under the sheets while she sewed pooled in their chests. Their lips had only been together for a moment until a flash of light emanated from the very glove in her hands. Marinette screwed her eyes shut, not willing to acknowledge what just happened.

“Hello!” A shrill voice squeaked. Adrien prodded the girl in his arms to turn around and face the music.

Music was a kind word—this little Kwami’s every sound was especially high pitched, even amongst its own kind. The animal it was based on was completely unfamiliar to the duo on the bed. The main reason for that; the tiny thing seemed to be _armored_. Thick, plentiful scales covered its back, leading down its arms and legs until it tapered out. A tail curled inwards towards its body and was coated in the razor-sharp plates as well. Only its belly, chest and most of its face were free of the scales—each one was an earthy brown, and the parts seen oddly looked like little hearts. Looking closely, they flexed as the Kwami chittered on.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you!” It bounced in the air, waving its arms before settling its paws back against its chest. The tips the Kwami’s paws were sharp and shades lighter than the rest of its body. _Claws?_

Adrien interrupted that line of thought. “Finally meet us? What do you mean?”

It beamed up at him with wide, grey—nearly black—eyes. “Yes! I’m the Kwami of love, and I **_love_** love!”

“That’s nice.” Marinette smiled. “We should give you a name and find you a home in the Miracle Box. How does Barro sound?”

Barro twitched the digging claws they were named after, thoroughly pleased. The blue haired girl gave a thin smile, inwardly sighing with relief—thank goodness Adrien hadn’t pressed further. When she learned about how exactly Kwamis come to inhabit her jewelry she wasn’t exactly _happy_ —

“Wait, but what do you mean? You didn’t answer me.” He popped her bubble before she could even finish her thought.

Marinette paled, turning to try to dissuade him. “Oh, well Kwamis exist even when you can’t see us!” Barro chirped before she could say a thing. “I’ve been watching you! But today I just **knew** I had to get my own Miraculous!”

His chest tensed against her back and she closed her eyes in resignation. “Wait—so a bunch of invisible Kwamis watch us constantly?” The blonde’s voice cracked; anxiety clear.

“Well yes, but—"

“What? That’s insane, and a complete invasion of privacy.” A hand reached up to tug at his locks. “Do you…do you follow us into the _restroom_?”

“Adrien.” Marinette finally spoke up. “They don’t really have a sense of privacy or an understanding of social cues before they speak to humans.”

“You knew?” Tone shrill, he stared at her completely betrayed.

She rubbed at her eyes. “I just didn’t think the information would make the situation any better! We can’t change the fact that there are invisible Kwami everywhere.”

“I’m sorry if I caused any problems—I was just drawn here by the incredible amounts of love.” Barro gave a wide, dopey smile. “Today it was so intense that I couldn’t help myself! I needed to officially meet the biggest lovebirds in all of France!”

Marinette froze. Despite the stark silence of the room, she heard ringing in her ears. Completely stiff in Adrien’s slack hold, she gripped the fingerless glove tightly. They had only been in this relationship for a month now. Neither of them had said those special, magical words: _je t'aime_ — _I love you_. She loved him, she did, but she didn’t want to rush into anything. They had been through so much—she didn’t need to scare him off.

“You love me?” He whispered out just behind her. She cringed but gave a tentative nod, still not facing him.

Suddenly soft golden locks tickled the back of her neck. Adrien shoved his face into the space just beneath it. She could just barely feel the smile he pressed into her shirt—but she _very clearly_ felt the tears seeping into the fabric.

“I love you too, Marinette.” Adrien murmured, wild blush creeping over his skin. Barro squealed and spun around their heads in circles. Neither of them could bring themselves to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to participate by posing Kwami names and animal suggestions, check out my Tumblr's pinned post!


	4. Surprise Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monk from the temple of the guardians makes a surprise visit and gets to see firsthand the current state of Marinette's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good chunk of dialogue in this one, and this chapter is mostly here because my brain went "lore??? For one shot series??? now???". So I made up some things about the Miraculous making process, and sprinkled in some details and potential hints about two characters. Those hints are vague or there's a variety of them because I am throwing darts in the dark when it comes to this show's lore because BABY we don't have much!

A sharp crack echoed through the attic-bedroom of _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie_—the result of Marinette working on her homework for the entire month in one sitting. Her poor neck and back were screaming, but that would have to be ignored for the greater good. For the first time in **months** , Hawkmoth had given Paris’s heroes a break. This was a prime opportunity to do as much homework as possible before she was swept up by her unpaid, brutal job as a secret superheroine. It was times like these that she thanked what meager luck she had that her teachers for this year had all upcoming assignments posted online. Though, it was likely that way because of Akuma attacks disrupting the in-class schedule so much. So far in the four and a half hours she had been at her desk she’d managed to complete the work for the next week. At this rate, the rest of her weekend could give her a lovely month, maybe moth and a half cushion in terms of academics.

She preened at the thought, rolled her shoulders one last time, and dived back into her Chemistry homework. The transition from the acids, bases and pH unit to the thermochemistry unit was frankly jarring, but Marinette felt she was finally getting a handle on it. A homemade zebra print pencil in her hand furiously etched across her worksheets—the writing utensil had just been a curious, middle-school aged Marinette wandering if someone could just make one. Several failed attempts later under the watchful eyes of her father, she had perfected her craft—and promptly forgot about it. Now it was finally being used because all her other pencils were too worn down. That or they had been lost in between wild chases with Akuma.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I presume?” A deep, male voice calmly spoke.

Said girl jolted, nearly snapping the lead off her pencil before dropping it to spin around. In her previously visitor-less room was a thin, aging man. Tanned skin spoke of many days under the sun, but his time on this earth battled with his complexion to turn a ghostly unhealthy shade—the tan could only do so much. Wrinkles around his piercing brown eyes spoke of a man who loved to laugh, but from the attire he wore…she didn’t expect that from him. After all, when Master Fu mentioned the monks at the temple he was raised and trained in, it was accompanied by the same words every time: strict, unwavering, mysterious; intimidating with their sheer knowledge.

Deep maroon robes concealed his figure, pooling around his feet and dragging behind him as he stepped forward. Along the marigold trim were painstakingly embroidered words in a language unreadable but _not_ unfamiliar to her—they were the very same shapes she saw in the Heroes Book. Each carefully stitched line shimmered in the light, almost alive in a way. Though she couldn’t understand them, she knew they were important. Her eyes flitted over the wooden necklace—recognizing the symbols of the ladybug and the black cat—before meeting his gaze.

“You **_are_** Marinette, yes?” He asked again, voice thick with an accent unfamiliar to her. Looking closer, the fabric all around him was thick, padded—built to keep the wearer warm in frigid mountains.

“Uh.” Marinette started, dumfounded and a little afraid. “Uh, yes. I’m Marinette.”

The old man nodded, a singled curled lock of ashen hair falling in his face from the combed back tresses. He didn’t bother to brush it out of the way. “Where is your master? You’ve been performing unregulated rituals—impressive at your young age, but you aren’t a master yet. It is forbidden for non-guardians to perform the work you’ve been doing.”

She flinched under his sharp stare, nervously tapping on the worktop with her left hand. The pencil yielded no comfort—sharp lead pointing back to the very man who made her so anxious. “I _am_ a guardian.” A soft whisper left her. “Master Fu is gone.”

A twitch of his eyebrows was the only shock that graced his features, and she was sure that one poorly timed blink would have made her miss it. The monk looked around her room in thought. His eyes settled on the nearest window—for a moment, she could see the sadness he held within. He only allowed that weakness for a few seconds.

“That is…” He turned to face her fully. “Disappointing.”

It was quiet after that, uncomfortably so. She squirmed slightly in her seat before breaking the solemn silence. “Did you know him?”

“Yes, we all knew each other.” The master in front of her gave a soft smile. “I knew him better than most. He was my ward—I trained him with the intention of him becoming a master.” A pause and a wry smile, then: “I don’t know where I failed.”

Marinette straightened up, breaking out of the intimidated fog his presence put her in. “He **is** a master. Probably even better than you! In the time we shared he was kind and understanding—he helped me become an even better hero.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “ _Please_ , he selected children to fight. Even worse, he clearly gave you no proper training to be a guardian.” A frail hand lashed out, and while it was too far away to reach her, Marinette still flinched back. Hard.

Her hand still on the desk quickly shifted backwards—directly impaling the side of her pinky on the sharp led of the pencil. She gasped in bewildered pain and brought her hand up to inspect it. The pencil was so firmly lodged in that she had to yank it out, and the inevitable drops of blood followed. They lingered on the lead, but eventually drifted to the solid white wood adorned with painted black lines. The pencil, like many things these days, began to take on that familiar glow. Marinette panicked.

The monk watched on in shock as the crude strip of wood and lead floated into the air—shining a blinding bright light. White light separated itself from the piece, then began to take the form of a Kwami. Pale, milky short fur with a black and white mohawk starting at the top of its head and traveling down it’s back, a small blue-eyed zebra peered back at them. Its short black muzzle let out a tiny whinny, then smiled at them. Before the small creature could speak, Marinette burst.

“I’m—I’m so sorry! It was an accident!”

It turned to Marinette, smile even wider now. “I’m Accident? Cool!”

“Wait—no!” She cried out, but it was too late. The Kwami, Accident, had been named. Names were not something you could change in the world of Kwamis.

The master knew this and settled a placating hand on her shoulder. “It is too late, Marinette. He is named.”

“He?” She asked, thoroughly confused. “How do you know that? It’s kind of hard to tell most of the time.”

He chuckled at that. “Yes, I can see why. Kwamis are truly genderless beings at their core—after all, a Kwami is birthed with a new concept. Concepts are not gendered; they are thoughts, feelings, actions, theories. We _all_ experience these.” Accident drifted over to the man, playing with the bony fingers offered to him. “This one has decided to be male, and simply is. They don’t know to tell you because they’ve never interacted with people before. However, a proper master can read a Kwami’s magical essence and see these things easily.”

The zebra chewed on the skin between his index and middle finger—occasionally kicking out a hoof into his palm. “I am Master Bohai.” He, Bohai, spoke; finally giving Marinette a truly kind look. She nearly melted into her seat in relief.

Bohai laughed yet again, freer this time. In his laughter was an echo of Fu’s own unfettered giggles. “I believe I see now why he gave you his title. You have innate strength and magical ability, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“I do?” She murmured, not convinced.

“Indeed. I have only successfully summoned a handful of Kwami in my time—and I am quite old.” Accident was in his hair now, yanking clumps around. “You must first meditate for weeks to feel out for the raw power of a nearby Kwami. Once you’ve discovered one, you meditate on its concept for another week. The concept and animal characteristics of the Kwami must be used to craft it’s Miraculous, it’s jewelry.”

“Speaking of which—” He reached past her, grabbing the pencil. “—I don’t see how this qualifies as jewelry. We may not use pencils or pens, but I know a writing utensil when I see one.”

Marinette thought on it for a second, then hesitantly spoke up. “Well, sometimes people put a pencil behind their ear or in their hair. Maybe the definition of what a Miraculous can be is looser than you thought.”

He hummed thoughtfully and continued with his original thought. “Perhaps. Anyway, once the Miraculous is made, a blood ritual is performed. The blood is a promise of protection on both sides of the deal—the guardians protect the Kwamis, and the Kwamis protect human life. Life essence must always be exchanged to forge a true bond between the Kwami and its jewelry.”

“Exchanged? Do the Kwami bleed as well, then?”

“Yes, though we never get to see that part. It’s the _mutual_ exchange that forges a bond—if either party somehow forced the other, the bond would not be made and there would be no Miraculous.” Bohai explained carefully. “As you can imagine, trust through meditation has to be built before a bond is even considered.”

Marinette furrowed her brows. While what he said made sense generally, it didn’t line up with any of what the blue haired girl had experienced. Kwamis had found her and Miraculous had been made without her even trying. She had never established a deeper connection with any of them before they barged into her life.

“You’re confused.” He interrupted her thoughts, bringing her attention back to him. “That is okay, I don’t fully understand either. No one naturally attracts this many Kwami at our temple—but perhaps it is just the purity of your emotions. It also could be you hail from a line of Miraculous users, or you were just born with more base magic. You could have even been blessed at birth by a passing Kwami—they do that, sometimes.”

Accident left the mess of Bohai’s thin hair to wander off. At this, Tikki finally made an experience. She peered out from behind the computer monitor, making eye contact briefly with the master before darting off to keep the new Kwami in check. His eyes widened in realization.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing Marinette.” Bohai warned, voice stern. “A guardian who is _also Ladybug?_ You’re a prime target, and these rituals emit power spikes throughout your area. That your enemy hasn’t found you yet means that his Kwami is deliberately keeping this information from him.”

“I’m not left with any other choices, Master Bohai!” Marinette snapped, frustrated with him and the situation. “Master Fu had to give me his title or risk Hawkmoth winning—and I can’t force anyone else to take the burden of being Ladybug.”

Tikki whispered into the perky ears of Accident, who settled down on the ground in turn. The conversation in front of the Kwamis was very important. The ladybug knew that Marinette’s every response thus far had been judged by the master of her former temple. If he decided Marinette and her friends weren’t fit to be Miraculous wielders—they never trained under masters, after all—he would take the Miracle Box, Tikki, Plagg, and even the memories of each Parisian wielder. Likely the temple would be forced to either ignore Hawkmoth or risk an all-out attack against the man and his comrade Mayura.

Bohai let out a deep sigh. “I understand, Marinette.” He let the girl simmer in her emotions for a moment longer before continuing. “If you’re going to continue life here, you will need guidance. I will be making monthly visits, in which we’ll go through proper guardian training—as well as individual Miraculous training.” Marinette brightened up at that, a wide smile adorning her face.

Tikki watched on as the two humans continued their conversation. In all her time as a Kwami, she had seen little change in the temple of guardians back in the mountains. The monks would wake with the sun, train in their respective areas, meditate for hours, and tend to each Miraculous. While she had been given to a motley of heroes, her time in the sun was nothing compared to her brothers and sisters—the Ladybug and Black Cat were seen as too precious to use as frequently. As a result, they only came out once an era—and in each one, the monks had never changed. Bohai himself had been around for several of those ages, and she had watched him take in orphans from the villages in the valley time and time again.

Finally, in her eternity of life, something was **changing**. Marinette, Adrien, their friends—they had the potential to bring in a new age of guardians and Miraculous users. Her wielder had already proven that Miraculous could be created much easier than the monks thought, and her team of heroes were strong in their own right. Perhaps Bohai saw this as well. The man could help fuel the light and in these young heroes and let them guide everyone into a new age.

_Well_ , Tikki thought as Accident moved to tear up the carpet, _things have always worked out, eventually_. She had plenty of time to see the world her Marinette would make one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have two prompts left on my personal sheet--I'll keep this fic open of course, but once I've done those it'll probably be a while before I update this again. If you have prompts for me, hit me up on Tumblr (I have a pinned post perfect for any of your ideas). 
> 
> You can also just leave Kwami names and potential animals for the next two fics if you'd rather do that.
> 
> Please let me know if there are typos!


	5. First and Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing the first time Marinette summons a Kwami. It also happens to be the worst time she summoned a Kwami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted this later than usual in the day because I surprisingly got stuck on the Kwami names. Thinking of good ones is hard! Which is why I filled this fic with arguably bad ones lol.

“Ah, _shi_ —”

“ **Marinette**.”

Marinette shot a flustered grin at her mom, who was not amused. Despite the smile on her face, the palm of her hand throbbed in pain. Deep crimson already seeped out of the slice she’d somehow made while chopping carrots. Truly, Marinette Dupain-Cheng could not be trusted with a knife.

Her mom plucked the sharp tool out of her other hand and didn’t bother being subtle with how far away she placed it. Marinette got it, though—her luck outside of the suit was abysmal at best. Even with the distance between her and the accursed knife, there was still a chance it would _somehow_ hurt her again.

“Dear, are you okay?” Sabine broke her out of her thoughts. “That looks a little deep.”

The girl gazed back down at the sluggishly bleeding wound. Raising a finger, she poked at it. A hiss slipped past her lips unbidden. Her mother _tsked_ and grabbed her hand to see it herself. With each prod and gentle press of her fingers she cringed backwards.

“Well, it doesn’t seem too bad, actually.” Her mother said, thoroughly surprised. “Let’s patch this up.”

All around them, covering every square inch of the counters, were assortments of vegetables. Carrots, potato chunks and so on, there was no free space to tend to _anyone_ right now. More than that, Tom was bound to come back from the delivery of an 80-year-old’s birthday cake soon. This surprise, early anniversary dinner was his all-time favorite stew, and it wasn’t even mixed together and boiling on the stove yet. They didn’t have the time needed to take a break for a cut.

Marinette gave an awkward smile. “Mom, we keep an emergency kit in my room upstairs. I can handle this on my own—do I need to remind you that dad should be on his way back home by now?”

Her mom jumped, eyes flicking over to the clock on the wall. “Oh, I can’t believe I lost track of time like that.” She immediately turned back around and began to chop vegetables speedily with her knife. “Thank you for helping, Marinette. Take care of that hand, dear!”

Said girl chuckled and trotted up the stairs to her room. It was nice to see her mom so excited to finally beat her dad with early anniversary gifts—but Marinette was well aware that the delivery today was a cover for Tom picking up an engraved locket with a carefully selected picture inside for his wife. He had sworn her to secrecy this morning and begged her to keep her mom distracted until he got home. A _very_ easy job.

The trapdoor to her room shuts quietly behind her as she meandered over to her work desk. Ever since she poked a needle into her cheek—don’t ask how, she doesn’t know—her mom insisted on keeping a first aid kit in her room for minor injuries at the very least. So far Marinette hadn’t been able to go a full week without having to open it for something or other; its last usage was to tweeze out glass from a cup she dropped, then clean and bandage any deep scratches. Such a useful object was kept in the most used area of her room, her desk—where most of the accidents happened as well. At this point it was second nature to hook a toe in the handle of the box under her desk as soon as something had gone wrong on the worktop above it.

This time she actually felt a little pride in not contributing to the astounding 93% chance of her hurting herself in her room. Besides, had the commotion downstairs happened up here, it would have woken up poor Tikki. The Kwami was overworked to say the least; the last week alone there had been at least one akumatized victim a day. The record had been three—two were the same pigeon-obsessed person. Xavier Ramier was a lovely, caring man, but the way he loved and cared for literally every single pigeon in all of Paris was _obsessive_. Honestly, Ladybug and Chat Noir were left wondering if the man even had a job given the random hours he was free to fight with them over thousands of birds.

None the less, Tikki could now rest—Mr. Ramier should be with his therapist right now. The least stable man in Paris is contained for at least a couple more hours, and Chloé isn’t even in the country. Her two biggest reasons for Akuma attacks weren’t available. Surprisingly loud snores from an especially small creature drifted down from her bed. Marinette shot a fond look upwards as she made her final steps towards the desk. **Big mistake**.

The moment her eyes left the ground, Marinette tripped. Her hands automatically shot out as she careened, reaching desperately to help her stay upright. One hand grazed the tips of her fingers on the top of her desk. The other bleeding hand landed smack dab in the middle of her wide-open jewelry box. She dug in to gain some stability, wavering a bit until she was able to use that hand to leverage herself up. With a relieved sigh, she stood up straight—proud to not have fully fallen over onto the floor.

Marinette took her hand out of the jewelry box and cringed at the sight. Her first thought? _Gross._ Her second thought? _At least those aren’t jewelry I’m selling or giving to anyone_. However, her third thought? **_What is happening?_**

The girl felt deep dread as right before her eyes, five pieces of blood-stained jewelry started rattling around the box and _glowing_. Her poor eight-year-old container was shaking with the effort of containing the rogue objects. Slowly they each began to rise up into the air, disentangling themselves from the other pieces in the box. Among them were two necklaces, one hairpin, a furry puffball of a bracelet, and her one and only attempt at a brooch. She only briefly grimaced at the childish design before remembering— _oh, I didn’t design any of my jewelry to do any of this ever_.

That thought was broken as each gleaming piece suddenly flashed even brighter, making her close her eyes. A veritable rainbow of intense color washed over her room for an instant, and was gone just as quickly, followed by the faint clattering of the jewelry falling down. Marinette’s eyes remained closed for a moment longer until she heard tiny yawns—ever-so-slightly different than the yawn of her closest friend and confidant, Tikki.

Opening her eyes didn’t answer her questions, not fully anyway. In front of her were five small chibi-like animals. They stared up at her with wide eyes ranging from crimson to ocean blue, and long draping antennae. Beyond their chubby heads they had amazingly petite features. No doubt about it, these little guys were Kwamis. The only issue? Master Fu had educated her on each Kwami in the Miracle Box, which was currently tucked away in a secret spot in her room. She had been given the opportunity to meet them all, even. These five guys looked **nothing** like them.

Each and every one of them seemed to be sleep addled, and in their groggy, sluggish state she could observe them. Left to right, there was a fleshy orange salamander, a sleek otter, a vivid poisonous frog, the fluffiest little sheep, and finally the subject of her childishly designed brooch—a pale pink dolphin. She couldn’t even claim that the large googly eyes glued onto the pendant hadn’t transferred to the Kwami as its eyes were still closed. Beyond that, there were much larger problems.

“Ti—” She started, voice echoing in the room. Beneath her the gentle footsteps of her mom faltered, then resumed. “ _Tikki_.” Marinette hissed through her teeth, trying to whisper as loudly as possible and keep her mom from storming upstairs.

Tikki’s only response was a snort in her sleep up above. The young Parisian sighed through her nose, yanking on a pigtail in an ugly mixture of frustration and anxiety. She headed over to the steps leading up to her bed while the surprise Kwami were still out of it. “Tikki! Wake up— _now_ please!”

Resting on a lone, plump pillow nestled in the corner of her bed was a completely knocked out Tikki. As Marinette scrambled up and ruffled the sheets, the ladybug’s antennae twitched. Tikki frowned at the movement and lazily flailed a stubby arm around.

“Tikki! Up now!”

The little red bug groaned and opened her eyes. She rolled over to face Marinette, face scrunched into a glare. “You promised I could sleep the day away Marinette.” She groaned.

“I know, Tikki. I know.” The blue haired girl apologized. “But we have a Problem.”

Tikki somehow scrunched her face even further. “With a capital ‘P’?”

Marinette nodded solemnly. “With a capital ‘P’.”

Tikki groaned again, flopped back on her back, and phased through the bed. Beneath Marinette she heard a small _thunk_ as Tikki presumably landed on her desk. Well, fine—even if she is being a little dramatic, from her position she should be able to see the Capital-P-ProblemTM. A moment of silence and—

“ ** _Marinette!_** ” Tikki shouted.

Said girl cringed at the shrill sound and meandered down the steps to deal with reality. Now instead of five sleepy Kwami floating in the middle of the air, there were five wide awake Kwami swarming around one very confused Tikki. Wide blue eyes stared despairingly up at Marinette.

“Okay, okay—get off of her you guys.” She waved a hand just above them, shooing them away. The sheep shot away almost immediately, all teary eyes and shy, panicked bleats. Opting to ignore that for now, she scooped up Tikki in her uninjured hand.

“Marinette, what is going on? Where did these Kwami come from?” Tikki whisper-screamed.

“I don’t know! I came up here to patch this—” she waved her scabbing hand “—and tripped. Coincidentally my hand landed right in my jewelry box. These guys showed up right after.” The Kwami drew in close to Marinette and Tikki once more. A small gummy hand squished onto her pale skin, and she stared straight into the crimson eyes of the salamander.

“Erm, h-hello.” Marinette stuttered. “Can I help you?”

The orange little lizard opened its mouth and smiled, flashing spongy gums and small pinprick teeth nestled among them. Oddly cute, but also just a shade of terrifying. “Yes, yes! Please please!” It squealed, blatant excitement showing in its wiggling body and wildly wagging fleshy tail.

“Okay…with what?”

“We need names, of course!” It— _he?_ —cried out, starting to get upset with raw impatience. Marinette flashed a confused look to Tikki, who just gestured for her to do as the little Kwami asked.

“Well, let’s just keep it simple, I guess.” She chuckled at the end. “How about Newt?”

He slapped a soft paw pad down on her once more. “No! Horrible! It’s not right at all!” His loud cry rang out, making Marinette move to hush him. As she tried to calm him down, Tikki spoke up.

“Marinette, Kwami use names that have repeating letters, one after the other. Like me and Plagg—Plagg is spelt with two g’s.” She explained, settling herself into a more comfortable sitting position all the while.

“Oh okay—why?”

“I…” The ladybug trailed off, face gradually morphing into genuine bewilderment. “...I don’t know.” She finished lamely.

Marinette decided it would be best to ignore that for now, and turned back to a still heated salamander. “What about…Newwt?”

Newwt perked up, flashing those tiny teeth once more. “Oh, that’s **perfect** , I love it!”

“Its…” The girl stammered. “It’s the same name. It sounds exactly the same. You can’t even verbally tell I added the extra ‘w’.”

“No, this one is much better.” He shook his head fervently.

“Okay. Say the last name.”

“Newt.” Newwt frowned.

“Great—say your new name now?”

He gave another gummy smile. “Newwt!”

They stared at each other for a few silent seconds. The steady wagging of his fleshy stump of a tail indicated genuine excitement for his name—there didn’t seem to be a mischievous bone in his body. But he has to hear it, the names sound _exactly_ the same. **What is going on here?**

Before she could think more on that, the other Kwamis pounced on her. They clung to her cheeks, one yanking on her hair as if they were grappling up a mountain. Almost simultaneously they began to cry about how they wanted their own names. The only gentle one was the sheep, who slowly approached and tapped on her nose, quietly whispering its own desire for a name.

She groaned, making eye contact with an already weary Tikki. They were going to need help.

_________________________________________

“So, you’re saying we’re parents now?”

“Adrien.” Marinette warned, cradling the antsy Kwamis in her lap. In the time it took Adrien to hop across Parisian rooftops to get her, she had managed to name three more. The otter, who was surprisingly haughty, was Sleek. The dolphin who she could not keep out of the glass of water she _had been_ drinking out of was Splaash. Lastly, the multicolored frog had been named…Hoppy.

“Marinette.” Adrien warned right back. “These names are terrible! None of them are creative.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “It’s much more difficult than it looks, I promise you.” Suddenly struck with an ingenious idea, she gestured to the lone Kwami sitting on the carpet. Its wide violet eyes darted back and forth between them. “That one doesn’t have a name yet. Go ahead, if it’s really so easy.”

The blonde shot a confident smirk at her and scooped up the nearly circular woolly puffball of a sheep in his leatherbound, clawed hands. His tail wagged hypnotically back and forth to his side, mesmerizing the Kwamis in the room—excluding Tikki, of course.

“Hmmm…” He thought aloud. “This is one cute little guy.” It smiled in response, fuzzy cheeks pinking noticeably. The Kwami practically melted into his palms; Marinette could almost see the hearts dancing around its head.

“Just to be clear, I am _not_ competing with a Kwami to be your girlfriend, Adrien.” Marinette informed him primly, only receiving another devious smile in acknowledgement. He turned all his attention back on the love-stricken Kwami in his grasp.

“How about—Mutton?”

“No!” She gasped; voice hidden by the raucous laughter her boyfriend was letting out.

The sheep looked over at her. “Is that my name, master?” Adrien’s mask lifted, showing surprise, and Marinette waved it off. “They’ve all been calling me that, I don’t know why.” She redirected her attention to the marshmallow-like animal. “No, dear, that isn’t your name.”

It bleated in relief and gave its attention back to the sly cat still wagging his tail. At this point, the other named Kwami had drifted over to latch onto the steadily moving strip of hardy leather. As Newwt dug in his needle-like teeth, Marinette thanked whatever entity that was out there that Chat Noir couldn’t feel pain from his leather extensions.

“Maybe…Wooloo?” He tried, extremely casual. _Suspiciously_ casual.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “Is that a reference or something?”

His tail picked up in speed beside him, nearly flinging off the Kwamis stuck to it. “No.”

The girl was unconvinced, but she couldn’t place where that name came from at all. As the sheep Kwami gazed up at her, pleading for a name, she sagged and gave in. “Fine. Your name is Wooloo.”

Wooloo gave a happy baa and was quickly swarmed by the other Kwami, sans Tikki who was perched on Marinette’s shoulder. Adrien smiled at the cuteness residing in his palms—five Kwami hugging and making happy little noises. “Aw, I bet Plagg would love this.” He cooed.

“Don’t bring him out.” Tikki cried, shocking both the humans in the room. She looked between them, exhausted at just the thought. “This is already going to be bad—Plagg would make it an _actual_ nightmare.”

“I wouldn’t call this bad, Tikki.” Marinette spoke, still a little surprised. “Maybe a mild inconvenience at most.”

“Oh yeah?” Tikki huffed out a laugh. “Where are the Kwamis then?”

Marinette and Adrien stared at her, confused, then turned to look where the creatures were. Adrien’s hands sat there, hovering completely _empty_ in the air. The couple locked eyes and paled.

Down below them, the sounds of glasses and plates shattering reverberated through the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one prompt left on my sheet--if you have any suggestions for prompts, Kwami names, powers, animals, etc. hit me up on Twitter or Tumblr. I rushed through parts of this fic, so PLEASE let me know if you see any typos!


	6. Lost Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another accidental Miraculous, but this time the Kwami is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first made that Tumblr post, someone asked me to make a one shot for a Kwami in the lucky charm Marinette gives to Adrien. I think I combined this one with another prompt, but I can't recall. Either way, this is a more somber piece. I also wanted to introduce a way to create a Miraculous without having to include blood--so just...powerful, raw emotion. In this case, hope.

The Agreste mansion is cold.

She had discovered that a while ago, though. Time hadn’t consciously passed before her Miraculous was created, but now each second, minute, hour dripped slowly past her. She had followed the girl with pigtails, then the boy with blonde hair and sad eyes once the girl had given him that childish charm. The charm itself was nothing to note, but the intense emotions tied to it—especially from the girl to the boy—had been enough to bind her to it. She went home with him, and resided there ever since.

Months had gone by, maybe. However long she had been there, it was long enough to learn that the house was alive. The walls creaked and whirred—arteries pumping water, veins pumping electricity. The great beast never moved, never ate, never faltered—but surely it was alive, no? She could feel its breath rustle her antennae. She felt its sadness in every room.

Though she embodied hope, there was little of it to be found here. That same sadness infected the residents and trailed dark clouds around them. The paths of melancholy and despair they forged into their reclusive spots inside the too-big dwelling were draining on her. Kwamis without a master were usually found in an epicenter of the very thing they were—Tikki had been there at the creation of the universe. Plagg would be there at its inevitable destruction, until Tikki returned with a new universe in tow. Such was the way they existed; though lesser Kwami were much less…intense.

For her, before this she had wandered between lands—drawn from place to place. She frequented hospitals, watching over the rooms that emanated intense hope: hope for survival, for everything to be okay, for the child to be born and the mother to survive. Sometimes she even helped—the blessing of hope was often enough to actually drive something to happen. To make the hopeful strong enough to see things through. The energy they fed into each other, though they never knew she was there, sustained her.

Here, she starved more often than not. Cold rooms yielded cold people, with cold feelings. She would get hints of tastes, mere morsels from the young blonde boy. When he sat down for a meal on his birthday, waiting for his father. When he ran away to go see a movie featuring his long-gone mother. Each time before she could truly feast, Adrien’s father had dashed his hopes yet again. Sometimes he tried to bridge things between him and his son, but the hope that drifted off of Adrien then was stale. Less pure. _Hesitant_. Not enough.

 _The father_ —his hope was insidious. She feared what a taste of that would do to her. Where his child hoped for love and affection, Gabriel hoped to crush the two pillars of Paris that kept him from destroying it. She had been around long enough to know why he was doing it; she had seen his wife with her own eyes. The sickly pale woman in the tube rarely gave off any signs of life, but sometimes she too gave off hope. Dreams, perhaps, of a time where Emilie played in a long-neglected garden with her little boy. But sometimes…sometimes the Kwami of hope thought that Emilie’s hope was insidious as well.

She experienced tastes of it, mere flashes every time Gabriel sat down there with his wife and spoke to her. At first things were fine, Gabriel would tell her how his company had expanded, how his designs were being received, how Adrien was doing. But then he would tell her it was only a matter of time before he crushed the children keeping him from her, that their dreams were so close to becoming a reality—and Emilie’s hope would turn dark and sour like his. The only good thing about this time was she got to see another Kwami, Nooroo. The butterfly looked to be struggling just as much as she was, despair written on his face at any given moment. When she watched on from a dark corner, however, his antennae would twitch. The butterfly couldn’t look around, but they both knew they were aware of each other. It wouldn’t matter, though; she had seen the consequences of Nooroo even just _drifting_ from the cruel Agreste. So, she never approached—just kept her distance from the man with poisonous hope.

There was another Kwami as well, one she never thought she would meet. Plagg had always been on the move in the time he was without a Miraculous—in between any cataclysmic event. He liked to keep it jovial whenever he spoke about it; the dinosaurs, the leaning tower of Pisa. The truth was that he was unfortunately drawn to all of humanity’s worst moments. War, famine, plague. They had all been shocked when he settled down into a Miraculous, but a few had figured out why eventually. You were tied to a Miraculous, and couldn’t travel the lands—most Kwami were wary of this, but it must have been a bonus for Plagg. An eternity of being forced to see the worst of the universe…yes, being chained to a ring was far better.

The Plagg of now was much happier than the rumors from long ago when he was untethered. He ate cheese as often as he could—each smellier than the last. He played, and teased, and laughed, and was _friends_ with his user. Despite all of that, though, she also saw him when no one else was in the room. He was happier now, yes, but his time in this universe had still aged him. When no one else was looking, his demeaner changed—more serious. His sharp gaze would look past the window, likely feeling the pull of the next cataclysmic event. The relief on his face when, after a few moments, he wasn’t forced to go to it was palpable.

She was more receptive to approaching Plagg than approaching Nooroo—Plagg was likely keenly aware of her presence—but each time she worked up the courage to go to him, something happened. Adrien would come into the room, upset, making her choke on the emotions clouding the area. Gabriel or his lackeys would roam the halls, always vigilant in the protection of the house and the dark secrets it hid. The most common interruption was the many Akuma attacks that occurred; Adrien would have to transform and race to save Paris alongside the ladybug Miraculous.

So, she gave up. Her pure white feathers had dulled and dirtied in her time here—no safe place to nest, nothing to eat lest she be caught. Lately the only place she could hide in were the rattling metal vents that washed the breath of the house over her. It was even colder here, and the dust clung to her greying plumes, but she was out of harm’s way for now. There were likely sensors of some sort, as sometimes when she walked through she heard beeping, but the humans hadn’t come up to look for anything yet. She could sit here and wait for eternity to pass, maybe.

The lids of her eyes wavered, slowly shifting down in an effort to conserve what little energy she had. It was quiet and peaceful in the monochrome, dark space—and she was tired and drained. Kwamis couldn’t die in any real way, but this near catatonic state…it was as close as she would likely ever feel to it. In the consistent rush of air blowing past her, there was tranquility. She began to drift.

On the brink of going into that restless darkness, the air suddenly shifted. No sounds disturbed her, but magical beings were attuned to magical energy—something was up here, in this lonely maze. The dark aura drifted closer and closer, but she only bothered to crack open her eyes once it was nearly on top of her. Electric green eyes met her own.

“That’s what I thought.” Plagg murmured, slowly circling the fallen Kwami. Had she not known any better, she would have felt like the prey to his predator. “How long have you been here?”

“Months. Maybe a year.” She whispered out, ending in a cough. “I don’t know.”

He hummed and settled down in front of her, tiny paws reaching out. They brushed dirt and dust out of her plumes, and ruffled feathers until they straightened. She sat there motionless all the while. Finally, Plagg placed his paws on the sides of her face, cradling her head. Her groggy eyes met his own once more.

“You’re very weak, sister.” He said, uncharacteristically quiet. “Your time here has not been kind to you. The bond to your Miraculous is almost nonexistent too.”

She groaned once more. “The boy has it—the charm. I don’t believe the bond was intentional. None of the proper rituals were performed.”

Plagg’s gaze sharpened at that. “Do you even have a _name_ , then?” She shook her head no, watching as his tail lashed behind him. He looked down in thought before turning back to face her. “I’m going to have to share my energy with you.”

The antennae branching off his cheeks reached out to her own, entwining with them. At first, she didn’t feel anything; just let her eyes close shut again. Then Plagg let out gentle pulses of energy, rattling down his whiskers and into her thin probes. They warmed her body in slow, gentle waves. Straight away that deep dark that had been looming and ominous was now welcoming, peaceful. She let herself drift into it—she let herself rest.

Vaguely, she could feel Plagg pick her up and begin to float out of the vents. “ _Shh_.” He whispered against her head. “Don’t worry.”

_Everything is going to be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. I don't have anymore prompts.
> 
> Thank you to those who read these one shots! For now I think I'll close this, as I don't have anything to inspire more chapters. But if you submit prompts on either my Twitter or Tumblr, I'll 100% reopen this again some day.
> 
> I can very easily see myself posting the occasional piece, so keep this bookmarked if you're eager to read more of this AU.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, consider following me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nicper00) for general content, or [Tumblr](https://eloc1n1cole.tumblr.com) for strictly writing and fandom content. If you want to support me, check out my [website](https://n1cole.carrd.co)!


End file.
